Poplars’ Whisper

“Little House in the Village” (Melody: Soft, folk-romantic, in the style of Bulat Okudzhava or Lev Leshchenko) Verse 1: Beyond the river, where poplars whisper dreams, Where smoke from the stove curls into the sky, There’s a little house — not big, but to my heart it seems Like a warm blanket, like my mother, like my childhood’s sigh. Through the window, sunlight spills, gentle as a dog, On the porch — a bench, worn old as memory’s trace, And in the orchard, apple trees stand tall and long — Their fruit, like sweet smiles, shining in grace. Chorus: Oh, little house in the village, you’re my quiet place, Where time moves slower than the ticking hands. No rush, no rings, no frantic pace — Just my soul breathing, coming back to life again. Through fog and snow, through years that fade, I’ll return to you — my little house in the village. Verse 2: On the wall, a clock that stopped long ago, Still smells of linden, honey, dust, and days gone by. Grandma sings, like in a fairy tale, Of nightingales and spring that never dies. The neighbor, old, with whiskers like a bush, Says, “Snow’s coming — time to stack the wood.” And I just sit, and listen — calm, no rush — As the world doesn’t hurry, doesn’t curse. Chorus: Oh, little house in the village, you’re my quiet place, Where time moves slower than the ticking hands. No rush, no rings, no frantic pace — Just my soul breathing, coming back to life again. Through fog and snow, through years that fade, I’ll return to you — my...